B.I.G J the Frothy Main - Dead Faces

Presidents, Presidents
All these... bout presidents
All my... bout presidents
Them dead faces on a black card have anything on your wishlist
Presidents, Presidents
All my... bout presidents
All these... bout presidents
Ain't on your job then you hate yourself
You ain't on it right the motivation whit it them

Could it be my business suit or my mogul savvy that make me different from yall
Fuck your thoughts bet you call on me when it's really big business involved
Stay out yah feelings
Come spend with me, If you're lost there gotta deal with it
Ain't in a rush, but come whit it
Please move swiftly cause the times ticking
I pick up women with the money motive
Put em on game when they class is over
Fashion Week, smart walkers with the top-notch and the high rollers
But most of yall stuck in yesterday
I'm like fuck that I'm on warp 8
Above the surface, beyond your vision
You on the first meal, I'm on my third plate
Country boy flip around the country
Just to find solutions make an end quote
When the ink dry do the money dance
Saying let me get them Fiat notes
Still mutha-fuck the po-po's
Fuck them Corporate GMOs
And them broads that's quick to call a man thirsty
While they pussy hanging out

Presidents, Presidents
All these... bout presidents
All my... bout presidents
Them dead faces on a black card have anything on your wishlist
Presidents, Presidents
All my... bout presidents
All these... bout presidents
Ain't on your job then you hate yourself
You ain't on it right the motivation whit it them

I make moves you gotta sign for
Anything else ain't got the time for it
Save the whole city with a dope flow
I can move a mountain with my eyes closed
Won't stop even after box
Even after light, I was born to froth
Spent time in my offseason
Casey Hill pulling extra drops
Now the money in, know what to do with it
All in on the right route
They ain't really want to lay a hand in it
But everybody standing with they hand out
I ain't really looking for no validation
Your participation ain't needed now
I was sent to the system with the crack codes
Let me paint you one
I could read your mind, you bout

Presidents, Presidents
All these... bout presidents
All my... bout presidents
Them dead faces on a black card have anything on your wishlist
Presidents, Presidents
All my... bout presidents
All these... bout presidents
Ain't on your job then you hate yourself
You ain't on it right the motivation whit it them

Written by:
Jonathan Banks

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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